Disclaimer: The usual, blah, blah. Standard disclaimers apply. If I was JK Rowling I wouldn't be writing in fan fiction… actually, it would probably be pretty fun to do that if I was her…
Claimer: I own Olivia. I like Olivia. She seems nice. Oh, and this idea too, is mine.
AN: Ask where this comes from and I shall merely shrug. I have no ideas. Zilch. The big goose egg. Oh, and feel free to review!
Every time I see him, he sends me that prize-winning smile, his blue eyes twinkling. But it's those same eyes that hold confusion. I can tell what he's thinking – 'who are you?' – as I take the seat beside his bed.
Waving pictures oh himself sit upon the duvet though he doesn't know why he sits there signing pictures of himself for adoring fans. He doesn't understand why he continually replies to fan mail, people expressing everlasting devotion to him.
I can tell that somewhere inside of that head of his he recognises me; or so the nurses tell me. Yet, he still breaks my heart as he asks the question that was guaranteed to be asked, but I dread everyday. "Who are you?"
"Olivia remember?" He frowns and then shakes his head. I'm surprised he has no lines upon his forehead from the amount of frowning he does. I know small lines are beginning to appear around my eyes from lack of sleep, too much crying.
"You're married," he points out, glancing at my hands.
"So are you Gilderoy," I remind him, though I know that tomorrow it will be forgotten again. "We are married to each other."
"Really? Huh… that's quite amazing isn't it?" The beginnings of tears prickle in my eyes but I blink them back. I never cry in front of him, I don't want to confuse him further. And yet, all I want is him to take me in his arms and tell me it'll be okay. Those were the days…
"How is he?" I ask, as a matron places some letters on the beside cabinet.
"Getting better, Mrs. Lockhart. He said he recalled the name Olivia and wondered where he had heard it. I told him it was the name of his wife."
"And?" A sigh leaves her.
"I'm sorry ma'm. He was confused… but it's a start." A start. We've been having 'starts' for months. Everlasting months, than spill into each other until they become days without titles, days without numbers. Every single night after work, I visit his bedside. We talk little. He just sits for a while, watching me until he gets bored and continued signing himself with that luxurious peacock quill.
I struggle to make ends meet now. He always used to bring in money, and now I put up with a lousy job on the Daily Prophet, writing book reviews for books I don't care to read. It is lucky his books still sell.
I, myself, published a book two months ago. Dealing With Forever by Olivia Lockhart.
'Till death do we part, forever, was the vow Gilderoy and I made and that was what the book was about. His fans lapped it up, even though they had to accept he was married. It distressed them to read that he barely knew what to say anymore, not knowing anyone who saw him. It distresses me even more so.
Oh, my beautiful husband. How I love him, always will. We were just beginning to talk of children and then he began to work at Hogwarts for book inspiration. An insider's look. And now he can't even remember he can do magic.
He bids me good afternoon as I walk away, refusing to look at the other patients that reside there. Somehow, I manage to walk from St. Mungo's to my small house, but as I close the door to the world, I can finally break down.
Because I am in love with Gilderoy Lockhart, give times winner of Witch Weekly's most charming smile award. And I always will be in love with Gilderoy Lockhart, even though he can't remember his own name.
I wear his ring and I am sure than somewhere deep inside he loves me.
He just hasn't remembered that yet.